Thorns At Sunrise: Star-Crossed Fairy Tales, #2

By Janeen Ippolito

A young queen. Her imaginary friend. A kingdom on the verge of death.

She believes she's crazy.

Queen Usilea has a secret–and he lives in her mind. Ever since she was six years old, her imaginary friend has been her closest companion, and her arranged marriage has been a great dread. When she learns her betrothed and the royal family have suddenly died, she feels obligated to attend the funeral in the foreign land of Absteph–and perhaps learn more behind their mysterious passing.

He only wants the truth.

Petar endures great pain to protect those he does not remember. His only solace is a shadowy woman who he loves–even though she denies that he exists. When a terrible tragedy occurs in his kingdom, that mysterious woman is his only hope of bringing justice to light. For the cage that imprisons him grows harsher every day, and he is losing the fight.

But there are thorns at sunrise.

Brought together on the barest thread of reality, Usilea and Petar must discover what really happened to the royal family. But Petar's time is running out. Soon not even a Mender like Usilea will be able to save him.

This YA romance features a gender-swapped Sleeping Beauty in an original fantasy world on the brink of doom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janeen Ippolito
• Release date: Sep 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781948896597

Book preview

Thorns at Sunrise

––––––––

Janeen Ippolito

© 2023 Just Imagine Press, an entity of Janeen Ippolito LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Line editing and proofreading: Sarah McConahy

Formatting: Sarah Delena White

Cover Design: Yvonne Less of Art 4 Artists

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Acknowledgements

About the Author

To Heidi, for always encouraging dragons,

and to Lady Kaz, for making such a short life so significant and furrific.

You offer the dreams and the safety of night

All cares and concerns

Vanished from sight

Yet beware, my dear

Of the thorns at sunrise

You say we are destined for goodness and joy

All madness and mayhem

Will never destroy

Yet always, my dear

There are thorns at sunrise

You claim we could stop that which is foul

All horrors and harbingers

No longer despoil

Yet remember, my dear

There are thorns at sunrise

And try as you may

And try as you might

You can never remove them

Would you condemn yourself

Ever to fight

Against the thorns at sunrise?

A sacrifice made

A sacrifice lost

A terrible end

An immeasurable cost

When the thorns

Came

At sunrise

Chapter One

Her imaginary friend was playing a new trick on her. This time, she would discern his meaning.

Usilea set down the quill on the paper, frowning at the words mocking her from the page. She pressed her lips together in thought. Thorns at sunrise? What could it mean? What was her mind trying to tell her?

"What do you think of my riddle?"

As usual, the voice didn’t come from within her mind directly, but somewhere outside. Yet were she to glance around, all she would perceive is the vaguest sensation of shadow and soul in the periphery of her vision.

And so, she refrained from looking. Instead, she focused on the words she had written, words he had spoken into her mind at some point in the night.

I think ... you’re afraid.

And what am I afraid of, goldenbird? Amusement teased the edges of his words. She had known her friend was a male since the first time they had met, whenever that had been. Sometime after her sixth year. "Tell me, you who know me so well."

I know you as well as I might any figment of my imagination.

Likewise. That is not the answer to the riddle.

A sigh escaped her. Usilea leaned back in her cushioned chair and rubbed the tense area around her eyes. You are afraid of being lost. You are afraid of being found. You are afraid of darkness, and you are afraid of light.

No answer came from the voice in her mind. A faint smile curved her lips. He only withdrew like that when she was right and he was bewildered. She had learned that pattern over the years as they had conversed. He liked keeping his mysteries, while he equally delighted in unveiling the mysteries of others. A curious behavior for her imaginary friend.

A strange, stabbing sensation pierced through her musing.

What did it imply about her that her closest friend wasn’t real?

I am a lonely person. That is all it could be.

Usilea turned back to her neatly organized papers, finding an older parchment worn with years. Other poems were there, as well as drawings and paintings from dreams they had shared. Had she been a traditional Mender, she might have believed she was contacting her soul-partner. All Menders had one. Due to their gift of empathically Receiving the injuries and ailments of others, and then healing from the wounds themselves, the soul bond was vital for mutual support and strength.

But Usilea wasn’t a traditional Mender. She was a healer of other Menders, which meant her fate could very well be different from that of her brother and his destined love, Renna. And Mender connections started during the night hours when both individuals were sixteen or older. She and her friend had been interacting at various times throughout both night and day since she was six. All of this meant she could not be speaking with her spouse.

Instead, it means I am slightly disturbed and creative enough to make my own company.

No, you are not.

A quiet laugh escaped her. It is oddly pleasant that I continue to dispute myself about this.

I am many things, goldenbird, but I am not of your imagination. How firm he could be when he was insistent. Perhaps this was her own mind as well. Others had said she had much resolve.

You have not proven otherwise. She kept her mental voice light, teasing. Whoever this figment was, he enjoyed debate, but only to a certain extent. Come now, let’s change the subject, shall we?

The shadowy image at the corner of her eyes wavered in irritation. "Only if you understand that you are not mentally disturbed. You are incredible."

I could be both. More of that teasing, of the sort she only enjoyed with him because he had started it so long ago. Calm yourself, clever boy. Whoever, whatever you are, I am glad for your presence.

Indeed, she always had been. Especially when, at age twelve, her parents had begun training her in their terrible practices with Menders. When she learned of how Menders had been placed into slavery under the guise of religious piety, consigned to Receive from the wealthy elite until the Menders died young due to overuse of their healing gift. When she had learned of the cremations, the grinding of Mender bones into powders, and the other desecrations the former queen and king had committed to further their own lifespans.

All of this horror Usilea had borne in silence, forbidden to tell her brother Jaric. She only had her devotion to the Eternal and the comfort of her imaginary friend. Often, he would tell a joke or distract her with a riddle or reference the Holy Scrit. Sometimes, he would help her plan out strategies for her takeover of her parents’ rule. Sometimes he was merely ... present. The knowledge of his existence, even if unreal, was air in her lungs when she couldn’t find the hope to breathe.

It was even more, now that she was queen. The Mender queen, as far as her people knew. She and her family didn’t deem it necessary for her subjects to know the details of her unique gifting. It was enough that she was a Mender. The people saw her and her brother Jaric as beacons of hope. Though they had been born from the horrific actions of their parents ingesting Mender remains, the siblings had overthrown their parents, ended the enslavement of Menders, and offered themselves as humble civil servants.

Now, two years later and with the birth of her niece and nephew, the past was finally fading. At least for others. She still had to prove herself to be more than her parents’ legacy. She must be the queen her people deserved, while having so few to guide her.

If she believed in fairness, it would have seemed very unfair.

Usilea allowed her gaze to drift around the room, taking in the many-paned glass windows and the carved wooden bookshelves nestled between them. Her older brother Jaric had personally overseen the building of this observatory as an early present for her coronation. A retreat for the queen of Edrin, recently turned eighteen. Her brother’s regent period had ended, and she was ruling sovereign by their laws. It would be publicly celebrated at her coronation.

I feel so old, and yet so young, she muttered. To whom? To the thick green leaves outside her window, rustling in the humid breeze. To the stars winking down at her through those leaves, faded stars that would soon be overcome by the new dawn. I wonder when that will change?

"Perhaps when you begin to relax and enjoy your life." His dry voice filtered through her.

Quiet, you.

A soft awareness of laughter filled her mind. Usilea shook her head.

Heedless, his voice continued. Oh, the queen, here’s the queen of sunlight, of starlight, arrayed in her tower of crystal dreams. Shall the queen of sunlight deign to visit the lord of nightmares? May it never be so.

His mocking humor, laced with sadness, cloaked her heart in a mist of unshed tears.

Usilea grimaced. No nightmares have I seen in your dreams, my lord.

And never shall you. For one such as you belongs to the daylight, to joy—even if you lurk in your tower like an all-seeing goldenbird.

A thread of longing wove around his words. Longing even his denial couldn’t erase.

She sighed. More riddles?

My lips can never speak again ...

Usilea sat up in her chair, her pulse accelerating. He’d never said those words before. The plaintive honesty of them broke through her desire to continue the banter. What do you mean?

Only silence answered her for one minute.

Two.

Three.

What do you mean?

Only the ticking of the timepiece on the wall answered her. Only the sound of her own quick breaths filled the air.

Answer me! She stood, clutching her silken nightdress. Please!

Lea? Footsteps thudded up from behind the doorway. Usilea whirled around to face it. The next instant, a tall, broad-shouldered man yanked open the door. His forest-green eyes surveyed the room with a quick glance. Are you all right?

She breathed out slowly, a hand to her heart to calm it.

Yes, Jaric. I am well.

You were shouting. His low, blunt voice was laced with skepticism.

Was I? She wrapped composure around herself as easily as she pulled the layers of her robe tighter around her body. Are you certain you didn’t make a mistake?

I was nearby—and I heard you shouting.

Usilea raised her eyebrows as she stepped aside to allow him entrance. Why were you nearby?

A part of her knew, but she wanted to hear him say it, if only so her brother’s voice could anchor her. Steady her after the abrupt disappearance of her friend.

A friend he could never know about. She had perhaps mentioned Petar once or twice as a child, but nothing since then. Her own comfort with her mild case of insanity was one matter, but she had enough to prove without giving her brother a reason to doubt. Jaric might even think it was a trace of their parents’ influence, a trace of madness in her mind that could foment into something worse.

Their legacy already haunted her memories. They couldn’t take her kingdom from her because of an unexplained malady.

He frowned. I needed to ... escape.

Your beloved firstborns? Our country’s precious heirs?

Jaric’s bronze forehead, a few shades lighter than her own deep brown skin though they were both tinged with garnet, wrinkled into deeper frown lines. I love my daughter and my son. They are resting quietly under Renna’s watch ... in my study.

Aha. Compassion stirred within her. Usilea stepped forward, placing her hands on his arms. "So you thought to find